Jamming
by Bartkartoffeln
Summary: The metal band 'Shadow Stitch' is looking for a new guitarist. Just before they want to give up, as all the petitioners are not what they are looking for, an auditioner enters the stage. One who is really something else.


Ganondorf leaned back in his chair and moaned. This just wasn't right!  
He combed through his thick, red, long hair with the fingers of both hands and stared at the small stage of the pub. This was the second audition for a new guitarist, and despite countless candidates, it just wasn't right. He waved the Number 10 dismissively from the stage and growled. Beside him, his other band members did pretty much the same. "How many fails are that now? Around 25?" Zant asked frustrated. The keyboarder sighed deeply and tousled his shoulder long, black hair. His pale face turned to the red-haired lead singer. "Maybe we should just take one of them and get over with the whole auditioning thing. Some of them at least knew how to play guitar and how to spell the word 'Metal'."

Ghirahim snorted, and Skull Kid lifted an eyebrow. "No way in hell we are doing that," Ganondorf snorted. "We are on our way to the top. We hit the charts, and our fans love us. Either we find the right guitarist, or none at all."

"None at all is no option, you know that! We need the power behind the guitar. For fucks sake, you shouldn't have treated Nabs like you did. Then we'd still have not only a hot as hell woman in our band, but also a guitarist that was just perfect! No one can complement your voice and expression like she did!" Ghirahim exclaimed harshly.

Ganondorf glared viciously at him. Nabooru had broken up with him, not the other way round. And yes, after that he had treated her pretty badly and then told her to leave. His apartment, his life, his band. That had been two weeks ago, and the topic 'Nabooru' was a taboo since then. But in one point, his colleagues and friends were right. There was just no one who could carry his voice that awesomely with a guitar. Their symbiosis had been the thing, that had made 'Shadow Stitch' a very famous band. Famous enough to hit the Metal charts and to provide them with more than enough gigs to not only get by, but even have a pretty decent income. With Nabooru, the soul of the band had lost half of its power.

Ganondorf's mood turned from frustrated to gloomy. It was their agent, that interrupted the common sulking. "There is another applicant," she said calmly. "He's not on the list, so he must have heard of this audition quite late. Shall I send him away?" The blond woman watched her men carefully. "Come on, guys. Don't give up yet. He seems… decent."

"We don't need decent, you know that, Zelda," Ganon scowled, but he tried to be softer to her than he was to his boys. After all, she had helped them a great deal in getting everything going. And she often knew what he and his band members needed, before they knew themselves. Zelda had prevented more than one fight just by calming their moods with wise foresight.

"Send him or her in, anyway. One fail more or less, who cares," the lead singer finally said, and she nodded. Not very interested, nearly all of them fell back in their chairs, the arms crossed before their chests. A collective moan echoed in the empty pub, as a young man with dirty blonde hair and athletic figure entered the stage. He had a sidecut, and all of his hair was combed to the right. It was short at the back of his head, too. His ears were ornamented with a black, small tunnel plug, and he wore a slim fitted, dark-grey shirt and skinny jeans in washed-out black with a few tears in the material around his thighs. Despite a handsome face, he had to be surely more than seven years younger than the rest of them.  
Now, he lifted a neon green guitar and plugged it into the amplifier.

"Damn, Gan, we don't need a freakin' punk!" Zant hissed lowly. "Look at him, I don't need to hear him play to tell he doesn't fit. And he's far too young!"  
But the huge lead singer waved the comment aside. "We've heard 25 freaks, we can hear another one," he decided grumpily.

On the stage, the applicant made some adjustments at the amplifier, then straightened up. The fingers of his right found the neck of the beastly green instrument - obviously he was left handed - and he struck his first accord. The second. The third. He played all the complicated solo from the band's most famous song ('Fuck off'), blended it with a more rumbling interlude from 'Die for you' and scrummed along to 'Hard ride', all the while adjusting his play to the mood of each of the parts. Frenetically, he dug his nails into the strings and bent over, hair falling deep into his face. The pub came to life without even having an audience, the riffs intermingling with intricate finger picking, back to riffs and accords, that could only be described as powerful.

Zant nearly fell backwards from his chair, Ghirahim gaped with mouth open and Skull Kid was silent as usual, but the frenetic tapping of his left food told he was positively upset.

Ganondorf just stared.  
His heart was racing, hammering a dark beat, as the play of that 'punk' struck every nerve in his body. Unconsciously, he rubbed at his chest through half of the mind blowing show. And when the young man on the stage finally finished, it took Gan a moment to realize it.

Silence.

The crackling sound of a guitar being unplugged.

"Gan…?" Ghirahim whispered. The lead singer snapped out of his mental state of awe and got to his feet. "Name?", he bluntly asked the blonde guy, and his tension was almost palpable. The 'punk' set his neon green guitar softly on the floor, his hands gripping the upper end of its neck. "I'm Link."  
"You want to have this job?"  
Link smiled mischievously. "'Course. That's why 'the punk' is here."

Behind Ganondorf, the whole band jumped from their chairs and broke into exalted cheers. The tension left the tremendous shoulders of the lead singer and he grinned widely. "Guys, I think we're back in the game," he announced and climbed the stage. A muscular arm wrapped around Links body, while the other one was held in front of the guitarist, forming a fist.  
Without hesitation, the young man bumped his own fist against it.

"Welcome to the Metal, my friend. I think we settle with 'Punk' for your stage name. I guess you don't want to change your style, hm?"  
"Nope," Link answered strictly. "Take me as I am or not at all. First rule for me as guitarist."

"Fine, then. Maybe it's this freshness we need anyway," Ganon muttered lowly. His other band colleagues didn't object either. Not after hearing the guitarist play like the devil.

"So… I would prepare everything until tomorrow, yes?" Zelda chimed in and shook Link's hand to congratulate. "There is a bit of paperwork to do. You should read this until tomorrow. It's a copy of the standard contract and a few rules and conditions from your future colleagues as well. You will get to set your own rules and conditions, too. So think about it over night," she advised the young man sternly. Link took everything and scrolled through the pages, then nodded. "Okay, thanks, Miss."

She smiled happily. "The pub owner wants to close and prepare for the evening, now. So please pack your things. We meet again tomorrow, 8 a.m. in my office." The agent left the men to themselves. Together with their technician and a cable boy, they cleared the stage and left the pub.

There, Ghirahim, Skull Kid and Zant bid Link and Ganondorf goodbye. They scampered off to their black van, talking excitingly over wonders and miracles, until they drove off.

"Can I get you to have a drink with me?" Ganondorf now asked with a winning smile. He wouldn't forgo this opportunity to be alone with Link. His pointy, snow white canines flashed and made him look like a predator for a moment. Link chuckled. "Sure. But I'm nearly out of money, so it's your treat."

The guitarist set himself in motion. The lead singer blinked, taken aback the tiniest moment by this cheeky answer. "Brat," he muttered, even though the other man barely could be called such. With that firm little ass in those good fitting jeans and the well trained body, the word 'brat' just didn't fit the guitarist.

"The 'brat' has damn good ears," Link commented highly amused. The lead singer grinned widely and caught up to the blonde.  
"Odd. It feels like you have been in this darn band for ages," Ganon mused. It had a nearly familiar feel to it, talking to Link, teasing each other. Like good old times.

"You know, we definitely should have a jamming session after the drink. We chose you because _your_ play's gonna harmonize greatly with _my_ voice. We better start practising as soon as possible," the huge man drawled, his tone utterly businesslike. Somehow, his arm had stolen around Link's shoulders again. The other man didn't seem to mind. "Sounds reasonable," he nodded in agreement, same businesslike tone.  
"And for relaxation afterwards, I propose mind-blowing sex," Ganondorf continued, still all business.

Link stopped in his tracks, making the red-haired man fear he had overdone it. "What? I thought, the _jamming session_ was supposed to be the mind-blowing sex," the guitarist said.  
They both stared at each other. The lead singer smiled slyly. "So, care to skip the drink?"  
"Absolutely," Link agreed.  
"My place then," Ganon determined brightly.

And that's how they missed the 8 o' clock appointment the other day…


End file.
